The Strongest War God

Chapter 1501: Killing Everyone with a Finger
Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Squeezing out their own potential?

Little did they know that everyone’s potential was limited.

If there were no special fortuitous encounters, a cultivator would frequently exhaust their potential, and eventually, they would be stuck at the current realm for the rest of their life.

There were even some whose bodies rapidly aged in a short period of time, leading to the dissipation of their cultivation.

“Stop right there!” A burly man with a naked upper body shouted with a thunderous voice, holding a giant axe in his hand.

“What can I do for you?” Braydon Neal stopped in his tracks and looked at him, his eyes calm without any ripples.

The brawny man took a step forward. “Milky Way Empire grand duel. Seventh level holy master. I challenge you!”

“Daddy, he challenged you!” Trevon Neal’s eyes were filled with excitement.

The little one was young but loved to fight.

In Trevon’s heart, he also wanted to see his father in action.

In his eyes, his father was an invincible legendary figure.

“I don’t want to kill anyone in front of the child,” Braydon said softly.

“Haha, your child has won 179 matches in a row and fought 179 enemies with his sword in two days. Although he is young, he is still amazing!”

The brawny man corrected Braydon.

No one present treated Trevon as an ordinary child.

“If you can take my finger, you win!” Braydon said lightly.

Swoosh!

“What? Wait a minute! In the arena, you can only fight on the stage!”

The burly man was on the verge of wetting himself.

In the arena, battles were strictly confined to the designated stages; any skirmishes elsewhere were forbidden.

Braydon, oblivious to the rules of the arena, remained indifferent.

With a raise of his left hand, he pointed downward, shrouded in a gray aura.

A dense primordial chaos energy swept across the entire arena like a tempest, causing the gathered cultivators to visibly pale.

“Gray energy! Primordial chaos!” Avery Ladd bellowed in fury.

“He’s delving into the primordial chaos path?”

The collective shock rippled through the crowd.

The sudden emergence of the primordial chaos path signaled the annihilation of all other paths.

Although Trevon’s exceptional talent was expected, his father, Braydon, was not to be underestimated.

Yet, no one anticipated his mastery of the primordial chaos path.

Throughout history, practitioners of the primordial chaos path invariably possessed a primordial chaos body, a trait notoriously rare and hereditary.

Braydon’s peculiar nature raised questions—was he born with an innate primordial chaos body?

Before conjectures could deepen, Braydon’s finger descended, transforming primordial chaos Qi into a myriad of gray swords.

The air resounded with the whistle of blades as ten thousand swords merged into one—a forbidden technique: One Finger Heavenly Execution!

“Oakley Lyman’s sword path!”

Paxton Foreman’s eyes narrowed as a colossal gray sword materialized in the heavens above the arena.

The Heavenly Execution Sword descended with a swoosh, landing squarely on the brawny man’s head.

In an instant, he was reduced to ashes without so much as a whimper.

The razor-sharp sword intent claimed the lives of the surrounding hundred people, including three holy masters.

Trevon, his admiration evident in his gaze, raised his head and addressed his father in a dignified tone. “Dad, let’s go. Mom must be getting anxious from waiting.”

“Wait a minute. Have you considered the chaos you’ve caused outside the arena? Do you plan to leave without addressing it?”

A dignified voice echoed across the arena.

In a haze, a green-robed middle-aged man materialized, exuding an aura of authority—a saint heart realm expert, one of the battle arena’s three great deacons, Tadeo Hines.

Braydon remained composed.

With a subtle gesture, he positioned Trevon behind him before speaking indifferently, “What do you propose?”

“No one may flout the rules of the battle arena and expect to depart unscathed,” Tadeo’s calm voice carried a hint of severity.

The rules were sacred; no exceptions allowed.

“Trevon, go tell your mom to wait for me,” Braydon said.

“Dady!”

Trevon hesitated, his worry evident in his eyes, but ultimately obeyed his father’s instruction to inform his mother of the delay.

As Trevon attempted to depart through a virtual artifact, he discovered escape was futile.

“Master!”

Trevon’s ethereal spirit appeared, reminding him, “You’re within the confines of the arena. It won’t permit your departure.”

Braydon’s gaze hardened.

He hadn’t anticipated such complications in this alternate universe.

While gaining entry into other factions was straightforward, leaving proved to be a far more daunting task.

Pressing Trevon to depart forcibly would spell certain doom.

Tadeo’s voice rang out sternly, “You and your son have transgressed the rules of the battle arena. Kneel before the gate for half a day as punishment. Fail to comply, and you both face execution today, earning a permanent ban from the battle arena in both the Second Universe and the primary one!”

“You’re a bully!” Trevon erupted in anger.

“Allow Trevon to leave,” Braydon interjected calmly.

“Are you giving me orders?” Tadeo’s cold smile betrayed his indifference to Braydon and Trevon’s plight.

In the realm of the battle arena, backstage powers wielded considerable influence.

The overseer of the Cosmos Battle Arena was among the eight lineage masters, instilling a sense of fearlessness among its personnel.

Braydon’s eyes narrowed as he sought a safe passage for Trevon out of the arena, intending to retreat to the outside world.

Tadeo sneered and launched an instantaneous attack.

The terror of the saint heart realm lay not in raw power but in the mastery of one’s psyche.

It revolved around refining the path heart and attaining a profound comprehension of the path.

The disparity in mental state, path understanding, and power manifestation was vast.

Those who had newly ascended to the saint heart realm could wield battle prowess surpassing that of a holy master by a factor of a thousand.

The saint heart realm had thirteen realms!

The chasm between each realm’s strength was vast.

As one progressed in cultivation, the discrepancy in battle prowess widened significantly.

Tadeo, a second level saint heart realm cultivator, was regarded as an absolute authority in this domain.

At the instant of his attack, there was no physical movement.

Instead, a soul projected from his body—a soul projection?

Though invisible, saint heart realm cultivators seemed to refine their souls, enabling such feats.

Tadeo’s true soul descended with force as Braydon swiftly countered with a left palm strike.

The collision resounded with a deafening bang, causing Braydon to stagger seven steps back, blood seeping from his lips.

“Not bad. You can withstand my palm strike at the saint realm!” Tadeo’s eyes gleamed with intensified killing intent.

“He’s only in the saint realm?” Murmurs rippled through the battle arena.

“A saint realm expert obliterated a holy master with a mere finger. What’s happening lately? So many ruthless individuals emerging at once, some are father and daughter, some are father and son.”

Disbelief colored the sentiments.

“He’s a saint,” Avery murmured lowly. “Taking on a saint heart cultivator’s strike head-on explains how he could contend with a holy master.”

His gaze then drifted toward Paxton, silently questioning his inaction.

Why didn’t he intervene?

With his status, a word from him could resolve Braydon and his son’s plight.

Unbeknownst to him, Paxton faced his own dilemmas.

Favoring Trevon was expected given his status.

Yet, aiding Braydon would inevitably unveil his identity, drawing unwarranted attention.

Paxton understood Braydon’s circumstances intimately.